The Thestral and The Phoenix
by Der random Reader
Summary: Why was Gellert Grindelwald sent to live with his aunt Bathilda Bagshot, what did she think of him? She introduced him to Albus Dumbledore, but how could Albus ever love someone like Gellert - What drew Albus to him? And what if Albus was not completely blinded, but confronted Gellert about his darker plans from the get-go? /1st chapter is M, but from 2nd chapter on it's less heavy
1. Chapter 1

** May, 1899**

''You, insolent little shit!''

Gellert was being dragged to the portkey; His mother and Hans, they had come to pick him up. He had been expelled. An empty foreboding feeling started to settle in his stomach. This was not a simple fire in the owlery. Expulsion. He was going to hurt. Gellert had tried to stall by walking slower, but Hans had simply grabbed him by the elbow and has been dragging him along at a brisk pace. His mother was avoiding his pleading gaze, and was instead seemingly engrossed with the scenery around the castle. Durmstrang; his home away from home, his refuge. He would probably never see it again. A swift pang shot through him at the thought. But no, he had a good reason for this experiment. That boy just had to pay. He only felt miserable about the fact that he got caught doing it. And he only felt guilty because if he'd done a better job the wretched shit would not only miss his eye and three fingers, but both hands and his face.

Hans got them to the portkey and within a few seconds all three were standing in the back yard. The white picket fence was high enough to avoid any muggles from prying into the magical home. The Grindelwalds were by far not the only magical family living in Bern, but the small village was still mostly populated by muggles. Gellert steeled himself for the expected thrashing.

Hans was still firmly holding him at the elbow. With a rough tug he pulled Gellert inside. As soon as Hans was over the threshold he threw Gellert against the island, letting him crumble to the floor. Hans then calmly closed the kitchen door and grabbed him by his ankles. Gellert starting kicking. He had to get out, to get away. The punishment over the year had not gotten any kinder. Now that he was expelled... Gellert kicked Hans away and quickly tried to get up. If he got to his room, he could lock himself in and climb out of the window. They had not taken his wand from him so he could enchant his sheets. Yes! that would work. He ran for the stairs, but was blocked. His mother.

His mother usually stayed out of the way when Hans was ''disciplining'' him, so why now? He tried to move around her, but she grabbed his wrist. ''Mother please, let go!'' She held on to his sleeve. ''Gellert, why?'' She looked at him with sad eyes. Her gaze turned wistful when she looked past his shoulder. Gellert was suddenly yanked backwards by Hans. ''No! Mother please!'' he screamed as Hans was dragging him into the drawing room. She kept looking at him almost as if in a daze. ''Don't worry darling, you just need to learn how to listen.''

And then the door was closed and he was alone. With Hans. Hans wasted no time and balled his hand into a fist and hit him right at the temple. Gellert fell back on the floor, but Hans didn't stop. He moved on top of him, his weight pinning Gellert to the ground and kept assaulting his face with punches. Gellert tried to shield his face, by pushing Hans away, but he was no match. Hands wrapped themselves around his throat then, and he suddenly couldn't breathe anymore. He began thrashing harder. ''Please'' He chocked out, like he always did. Pure fear settled in as black spots started to cloud his vision. He stopped flailing, his eyes closing. And then he could breathe again.

* * *

Gellert woke up in his bed. It was night. His eyes were crusted together and he instinctually went to rub it away. A blinding pain suddenly overtook him and he remembered; he got his face bashed in. The scent of Dittany still hung in the air, and he saw the container on the nightstand. His mother. She always tended to him after a bad time. He couldn't understand how she could watch him being beaten like this, yet do nothing, but still tend to his injuries afterwards as if she wanted him save.

The door suddenly opened, light blinded his tender swollen eyes. The deep voice of Hans was unnaturally loud to his ears. ''You are leaving this house, you hear me. Your mother and I have decided that it would be best if you were to spend your time in a different environment. Somewhere far away from here.'' Gellert stared at him owlishly, the pain from the fresh beating, making his head feel fuzzy. Going away? Hans continued - ''You are a plague on this family, so we are sending you to England. Your mother has an aunt living there and thank fucking Merling, as she has agreed to take you in.'' England? Gellert stayed quiet. What was there to say? Please let me stay? Don't send me away? He doesn't want to stay here, so would it really be that bad? He would miss the woods, and the river, but could it be worse than living in this house?

Hans spoke again.'' I trust you understand that you will be expected to behave? Because, you see, if you screw this up, Gellert, I will make you suffer. I will make you suffer in ways you have never imagined.'' To emphasize, Hans walked to the bed and leaned over him. Gellert tried to stay calm. ''I understand, sir.'' He said softly, his gaze directed at the bed cover.

Hans trailed his hand over Gellert's arm, down to his side. ''I don't think you understand, boy.'' Hans moved onto the bed, looming over Gellert. Gellert tried to shrink away from the unwanted touch. Hans simply grabbed his wrists and pinned them both down with one hand. Hans had never touched him like this before. Gellert tried to use his legs to push Hans off, but then he was flipped onto his stomach. A weight settled on top of him. He couldn't move. Hans' breath was hot against his ear. ''I will show you real pain, you little shit.'' Gellert felt Hans' wand pressing against his shoulder. The word was spoken quietly, but the way Hans was breathing into his ear, it was unmistakeable. ''Crucio.''

Gellert felt as if he was being burned alive, a thousand knives were stabbing him at once. Without conscious thought he let out a ragged scream. He started thrashing, his muscles convulsing under the spell. Tears rolled down his face, the pain making him wail like a small child. Hans looked down at the boy underneath him. His screams and sobs music to his ears. He'd wanted to do this for a long time. Seeing the little shit brought down. But Hans wouldn't be satisfied with pathetic crying this time.

Hans stopped his assault, and felt Gellert go limp underneath him. The friction that the boy had been providing stopped and Hans grunted in frustration. He rubbed himself against the soft body underneath him. A pitiful whimper came from the object of his frustration. Hans pushed himself against Gellert again and the latter started thrashing again. ''Stop, get of me!'' Gellert's voice was muffled by the pillow. He could feel Hans' erection pushing against his bum. Tears still rolled down his face, his entire body sore. ''Please, stop. Please'' He cried. He was a virgin. Gellert shook his head. Not like this, please Merling not like this. Hans started to suggestively grind against Gellert. His moans, loud and moist in Gellert's ear. Hans' hands were suddenly at Gellert's pyjama bottoms, pulling them down, exposing him. ''No please, please stop.'' Gellert sobbed. He heard Hans lowering his zipper and pulling his trousers, then his pants down.

Hans grinded his erection against Gellert's bottom again, this time flesh against flesh. The hopelessness of the situation started to sink in for Gellert. Hans was going to rape him.

Hans spoke again, his disgusting breath in his ear. ''I want you to beg me.'' Hans said as he grinded against him again. Gellert sobbed again, ''Please, please!''. Hans ground against him again, moaning shamelessly. ''No, I want to hear you say 'I beg you'.''

Gellert didn't care what he had to say, he just wanted this to end, for Hans to leave him alone. ''Please, I beg you! Please, please, please...'' Gellert repeated it like a mantra until he heard Hans chuckle in his ear. ''was that so hard now, hmm?'' Hans said. After a few seconds Hans pulled his pants and trousers back on and patted Gellert's head before getting off him. ''This is your warning. You will behave in England. Do you understand me?'' Gellert felt Hans' hand cup his left buttock. He weakly shook his head yes, and sobbed an affirmation in the pillow. That seemed to satisfy Hans, and the hand on his buttock disappeared. With that Hans left the room and shut the door. Gellert didn't move, didn't dare move. Instead, he let out a sob, crying helplessly into the pillow. He could feel the cold night air on his exposed buttocks, and how his shirt stuck to his back because of the sweat. It wasn't until after all the lights in the house had gone out, and he was certain everyone was asleep, that he pulled up his pyjama bottoms. He curled into a ball. He couldn't sleep. In the morning he heard his door getting locked. After another hour he heard his mother and Hans leave the house. It wasn't until thenhe could fall asleep.

* * *

**Present day, 1899**

Bathilda Bagshot is walking home. It has been a tiresome day filled with misery. Kendra Dumbledore was not well known in Godric's hollow, but nevertheless Bathilda feels her loss. She especially feels for the eldest Dumbledore child; Albus. She saw him at the funeral, looking heartbroken and defeated. She will come by tomorrow to see how he and his siblings are doing. Tonight, she is going to clean out the guest room. She had gotten an owl from her niece, asking to take in her son, Gellert, for some time. The boy she described is sixteen, and has been expelled from Durmstrang. The letter did not explain the reason for his expulsion, only that it's urgent that he finds a different place to live. Her niece's writing ensured her that this Gellert is a good boy with a lot of ambition and that he shan't cause any trouble. Bathilda was a bit hesitant at first, but she reckoned it wouldn't cause any harm. She spends most of her days alone in her house, and this great-nephew could help her spruce up the garden. So, she had written back that it is okay to send him over, and that she would be happy to take care of Gellert for the summer.

Once at home, she walks upstairs to the guestroom. Now that she is standing in the room that her visitor will occupy, she wishes she had given it a bit more thought. What does a sixteen-year-old need? She starts with cleaning out all the random piles of books, then gives the place a good dusting and changes the bedding. She does this with a few flicks of her wand. Sitting down on the now clean covers, Bathilda floats over some paper and a quill. ''What does a sixteen-year-old boy need?'' she says aloud. The quill starts taking down her notes on the paper at her words, hovering next to her. Bathilda looks down at herself, looking at her robe. ''Clothes. Like... Trousers! Trousers, and shirts, undershirts, socks, panties. No, pants.'' She looks around the room, thinking of more things. ''Shoes?'' She goes on like that for some time until she cannot think of more things to add. Looking at the list, she makes her way down to the kitchen. She waves her hands and the kettle put itself on, and her favourite cup floats over. Gellert. Gellert Grindelwald. She has never met him. She tries to picture him in her head, but with nothing to go on expect 'being good, and having ambition', she only sees some shapeless teenage blob. She guesses she will just have to wait until next week when he would be here. That is plenty of time to get everything she needs. ''shaving cream!'' she said out loud, again, the quill writing it down. Yes, Bathilda decides, she is looking forward to Gellert Grindelwald visiting.

The next few days for Bathilda are spent shopping for toiletries, linen and other random things. She decided to wait with the clothing until her great-nephew's arrival. According to her niece's correspondence he will be arriving tomorrow. Until then Bathilda just moves through the house, cleaning as she went. She had forgotten how many books are scattered throughout the house, randomly positioned at the strangest places. She even found some underneath the kitchen sink.

The following day she got up earlier than usual, surprising herself. Despite nearing forty, she feels slight nerves over meeting this boy. She is feeling nervous over the responsibilities; she has never taken care of another human being like this. What if he doesn't listen to her rules? What if he only speaks German? She sips her morning tea slowly, letting it calm her. It will be fine, he is family after all, and she can teach him English if he has trouble with it. She wishes that her niece had been more specific about the timing though...

She waited all morning in anticipation, but gave up after eleven. Now the clock is nearing one, and she is sitting in her study; reviewing possible material for the seventhchapter of her work-in-progress. Then she heard it; a loud crack, a crash and someone groaning.

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	2. Chapter 2

Gellert felt his dinner from last night come up, the unexpected transport making his stomach clench painfully. He feels tears pricking at the back of his eyelids, but keeps them at bay. He slowly gets up from his undignified position; half sprawled in the rosemary bush. He looks around him, feeling the hot sun shining down on his dark robes. He seems to be in a town, if one could call it that, with small old houses in a style he's not accustomed to. The house where the rosemary bush belongs to looks like it's being held up through sheer will. He supposes this is the house of his great-aunt Bathilda Bagshot, and as if on que, an aging woman with black hair and a short stature opens the front door. She is dressed in similar colours as he is, but the dark colours are contrasted with the purple in her petticoat. She quickly walks towards him. ''Hello - are you alright?''. He makes an affirmative noise, nodding his head, not really ready to leave German behind. It seems to appease her and she quickly ushers him inside, helping him with his bags that were apparently scattered in the roses.

Bathilda looks at the blonde, lanky boy as he walks inside. He is taller than her, she just reaches his shoulders. She does see resemblances between him and his mother Theresa, and Theresa's late husband Klaus. He has his mother's hair, and eyes, but his father's height and nose. When she heard of Klaus' death she felt deeply for her niece. Klaus was a very kind man; a gentle giant. She is happy that Theresa has found someone else. She has not heard much about Hans, the few things she did hear contradict each other. Her sister Gertrude, Theresa's mother, does not speak highly of him, yet Theresa herself praises the ground he walks on.

''Why don't you have a seat, dear.'' Bathilda says, motioning to one of the chairs in the kitchen. Gellert sits down gently, watching as she uses wandless magic to prepare some tea. ''Would you like a cup?'' No, he thinks to himself. A sudden bout of loneliness hits him and he looks down at his clasped hands in his lap. he wants to curl in to a ball and weep like a child. He misses Durmstrang. The reality of his expulsion has sunken in, and he knows he will never be able to return there. He misses his friends. His mother and Hans had kept him locked up in his room until he was thrown a portkey and arrived here, he hadn't even had a chance to say goodbye to them.

''Sprichts du Engels?'' Bathilda tries. Gellert, not expecting her being able to speak his language, looks up in surprise. She is looking at him with kindness. He fidgets with his fingers. ''Ja - aber.'' He stops. Ja aber was? He speaks English, he taught himself at a young age, but the truth is, he just doesn't want to right now. ''Est ist okay – it is okay. My name is Bathilda Bagshot, I am your great-aunt. I have lived here in Godric's hollow for quite a few years now.'' She looks at him, gauging his reacting, perhaps trying to see if he understands her. Gellert nods his head, Bathilda smiles, and continues: ''Well, I'm afraid there is not much to do around her for a young man such as yourself, but there is another boy your age: Albus, I was thinking, maybe you two should meet. He is a smart young man, and I have heard you are quite ambitious yourself; I am sure you two would get along great.'' Gellert nods again and looks back at his hands.

Bathilda is not too deterred by the young boy's silence. She had expected him to have possible problems with the English language, and despite him saying he speaks it, she is not so sure as he did say so in German, not English. ''How are you feeling, dear?'' She tries again. Gellert looks up timidly, he seems miserable. The boy must be feeling home-sick she thinks. ''I - I'' he gets out before his façade collapses and his face crumbles as tears track down his cheeks. Without thinking, Bathilda reaches for him and pulls him close, using one hand to hold him, and the other for running her fingers through his hair, hoping it soothes the young boy. He clutches onto her robe, as she lets him cry against her shoulder, the angle slightly awkward because of their height difference. After a few minutes Gellert's sobs quiet down, and he feels mortified for his weak behaviour; crying shamelessly into the shoulder of a woman he has known for less than an hour. Bathilda talks to him in soothing tones: ''Shhh – it's okay, dear.'' Her kind words make Gellert feel even worse; the anger, sadness and frustration of his beating, lockdown, and then his abrupt departure all coming out, causing more tears to fall.

Bathilda had not expected the boy to cry like this. His thin frame shakes with each sob as she holds him. His sobs, after some time, turned into soft sniffles and then eventually stopped. Gellert pulls away from her, not daring to look her in the eyes after that embarrassing scene. He couldn't stop the tears from falling. Bathilda's hand is still holding onto his arm; a steady warm weight. She squeezes his arm gently before speaking: ''Gellert, what is wrong? Why are you so upset?'' He wrings his hands. He feels like he owes her some kind of explanation for his random outburst. ''I am sorry, I am simply tired.'' He says softly, hoping she won't push him. Bathilda nods, ''I see.'' she says. ''Come, dear.'' She continues, tugging gently at his sleeve, pulling him up. ''I will show you your room!'' She says in an overly cheery voice while trailing up the stairs. ''It will be fine, don't you worry. You do look a little pale. Are you hungry, would you like something to eat.'' She tries. Gellert does feel a bit hungry, but the memory of the portkey makes him reconsider. ''No, thank you. I am just tired.'' He replies softly. Bathilda looks at him sceptically, but continues up anyway. She stops in front of the second room on the first floor. ''So, this is where you will be sleeping. I have cleaned it up for you, but it's quite plain as of right now.'' The room does indeed look spartan; the walls a pale yellow, simple old-fashioned curtains and little furnishing. There is a single bed in the corner next to the window, with a small night-stand, and a desk and a large oak wardrobe on the other side of the room. ''You are free to add your own personal things.'' Bathilda says. With a flick of her wand, his bags float up to the room and position themselves next to the desk. Gellert feels tears coming to his eyes again. His wand. After he was locked into his room, Hans had taken his wand away. He is stuck in England without his friends, and without his wand. He swallows, forcing the tears away, and says ''Thank you Ms. Bagshot'' Bathilda smiles at him and pats his arm. ''You're most welcome my dear – but I will let you get settled in, give you some rest.'' Gellert forces a smile, not wanting to seem ungrateful for her hospitality. ''Okay dear, so I will call you around seven for dinner, but until then you can get some rest.'' She says. Bathilda smiles again at him, then turns back towards the door and goes to her study, and Gellert is left alone in his new room.

Bathilda is not blind; she saw the look in Gellert's eyes when she brought her wand out. She had seen that look before: it was during her second year when during a DADA class someone's spell bounced off into the crowd and broke her wand, also singed the sleeve of her robes and burned her arm, but it was mostly her wand she felt sorry for. She had to wait two weeks until she could get a new one. The look Gellert had was the look she had those two weeks when she was unable to do much of anything in term of magic.

Bathilda sighs to herself. Have his parents not send it with him? She supposes not, it could even be a possibility that his wand was taken after he was expelled. But, no, that is probably not the case, right? Gellert is sixteen, so he must have been in his fifth or sixth year. For his sake she hopes he has already passed his OWL.s, since then at least, he was legally allowed to keep it according to the law. Well, according to The Ministry of Magic at least, she does not know whether they have any authority at Durmstrang, or how expulsion and the keeping of one's wand is handled.

Judging by his reaction at tea, Bathilda also concluded that the boy most likely did not have a choice in coming here. The way he broke down when she asked how he felt was disconcerting. She hopes her attempt at comforting him helped in any way. She had expected someone more – how to put it - Rebellious? His mother said it was urgent he stayed somewhere else, but why, she has not discovered yet. Bathilda simply assumed it was because of the boy's behavior; the need for his departure from home on such short notice, combined with his expulsion, made it seem like the most logical conclusion. Yet, He does not seem overly difficulty, and to be honest she feels for him; expelled from school, sent to England, and probably sent here without a wand.

Bathilda pushes aside her notes, and grabs an empty piece of parchment, and quill. With determination she starts a letter to her niece in which she asks for the whereabouts of het great-nephew's wand. After finishing, she walks the kitchen and gives is to Serendipity, her aging post owl. ''I know girl, just one more, okay?'' She coos to her pet. The white bird ruffles her feathers, but flies out the window anyway. Bathilda turns around, leaning against the island. ''Right – time to make some dinner!''.

Once alone in his room Gellert sat down on the bed, picking at the wool cover. He needs to stop blubbering in front of Ms. Bagshot he thought, Hans' words ringing in his ears: 'this is your warning.' He takes a steadying breath. He is glad to be away from that wretched house. Yes, he needs to see this in a positive way. But his wand... He lets himself fall backwards onto the bed. So, this is where he will be living the coming few weeks. Bathilda Bagshot seems very kind, but he should still be vigilant he decides. He looks up at the aging ceiling, and without conscious thought closes his eyes. The heat in the room is making his clothes feel uncomfortably hot. He kicks off his shoes, and his jacket, then looks up at the door for a few seconds and, deciding it is safe, unbuttons his dress shirt, and trousers. He pulls out a light cotton under shirt and some trousers that are more suited for summer weather. Lying down in his more comfortable attire, Gellert stares up at the ceiling again. His eyes feel heavy from crying, with a tired sigh, Gellert curls onto his side, pulling the duvet close to him. A second after his head hits the pillow he is asleep.

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	3. Chapter 3

The soft pillow feels nice against his cheek, and he's clutching the woollen duvet close to his chest, but something is wrong. Suddenly he is back in that room again. _Hans is there, breathing into his ear:_ '' _This is your warning Gellert.''_

Gellert woke up with a gasp, looking wildly around the room. Wait, he is no longer there; he is at his Tante's house, lying on his new bed, in his new room. He looks out of the window; it is still light out, the sky a clear blue with no clouds. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, slowly sitting up against the headboard, he pulls the duvet up with him, using it as a blanket. What time is it? How long has he been asleep? After looking around the room Gellert concluded that there is no clock available, but judging from the light coming through the window he guesses it is not seven yet. Will his aunt come to his room to pick him up, or is he expected to make his own way downstairs when it's time?

He decides to wait until his aunt comes and gets him, and not really knowing how to fill his time, starts unpacking his things. He pulls his clothes out first, he doesn't bother folding them, but simply shoves them into the wardrobe, only making distinction between shirts and trousers. His under things he put in the drawer at the bottom. He couldn't pack a lot of things, but with frequent washing this should suffice. After his clothes he pulls out the books he brought with him, handling them a lot more carefully than his clothing. He decides that they will fit nicely on the desk, in exception to his most treasured book: a worn-out copy of ' _The Tales of Beedle The Bard''_. That one he puts on his nightstand, next to his bed.

At least here, in Godric's Hollow, he can conduct his research in peace. The Deathly Hallows. They are real; he is convinced that they are real, they have to be. The evidence of their existence cannot be ignored. They may have called him a fool, but he will find them. He does not regret his little handiwork left on the wall at Durmstrang: a carved-out triangle, within it a circle and a line running down the middle. He made sure that the sign will last for years to come.; the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Gellert, during his reverie, subconsciously started to trace the symbol onto the duvet with his fingers.

A soft knock on his door stopped his musings. ''Gellert? - Gellert, are you awake?'' Bathilda says softly through the door, her voice muffled by the wood. Gellert quickly sits up on the bed. ''Yes, Tante, I am awake.'' Bathilda opens the door slowly, sticking her head through the opening first. With a cheery smile she asks: ''How did you sleep, dear? You were out like a light!'' She shuffles further inside the room and looks around. ''I see you have already put your things away - good - that's good.'' She says. Gellert, feeling much more like his usual self, smiles and nods, ''Yes I thought I might as well start with that, giving everything a place here, seeing as I will be staying here for some time.'' Bathilda smiles back at him. ''About your stay here -'' she begins ''- I understand you will need a few things that a young man as yourself needs, therefore I thought you might like to go shopping today, pick out things you'll need.''

Gellert blinks at her. Shopping? Bathilda takes a seat on the edge of the bed and looks at him expectantly. He voices his confusion out loud after Bathilda stays quiet. ''Well, yes, why not today. I thought it would be nice to show you some of England!'' she answers cheerily. ''Is it not a bit late for that?'' Gellert answeres carefully. Bathilda looks at him confused for a second, and then burst into laughter. ''Oh Gellert! It is ten in the morning, my dear; you've slept through the night, missed dinner and all. I tried to wake you, but you were looking so tired, so decided to let you sleep, until you would wake up on your own accord.'' Gellert gapes at her. ''It's the next day?'' he asks incredulously. ''Yes, dear it is.'' She confirms for him chuckling.

''I guess you will be hungry, so I made you some breakfast'' Bathilda says while waving her hand, making a tray float over to the bed. ''This is a traditional English breakfast'' Bathilda explained, pointing at the different things on the plate. ''This - '' She says ''- is toast, and those are beans. The meat is a simple sausage, and that - well that is just a regular egg.'' Gellert nods as she explains the various components. It smells really goods though. ''Thank you, Tante.'' He says in earnest. The food looks delicious, and she is right: he does feel particularly peckish. Bathilda nods at him and gets up from the bed. ''Well dig in, after you are done I though we could get you your things in the city.'' Gellert smiles and nods. ''Yes, that sounds nice, thank you.'' He then lifts the fork to his mouth and takes an experimental mouthful of beans, toast, and sausage. Yes, he decides, yes this is really good. He tells Bathilda as much, and she accepts the compliment with a smile before leaving him to finish the rest of it.

Gellert takes another mouthful and closes his eyes in pleasure. Now this is some good fucking food. His mother is a terrible cook, and meals were always prepared by the house elves. Molly, who acted as the head of the house elves, relayed all messages to the other house elves etc. always made him the best banana ice cream. He swore to himself that Molly's culinary skills could never be compared, but this - this seemingly random mash of ingredients - is up to par, he decides.

After finishing all the food, he pulled on some fresh robes; normally he wouldn't, since he only slept in them, but as he doesn't want his great-aunt to think he is unclean, he changes into new ones anyway. Bathilda is sitting at the kitchen table when he gets down-stairs. ''Cup of tea, dear?'' she asks.

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They sip their tea, while Bathilda asks Gellert about his interests. He tells her about his love for practicing spells, not touching on the fact that is it mostly _dark_ magic spells that attract his attention, and his love for magical lore among other things. She tells him in turn that she is a historian, and that she writes novels, one of which is being used at Hogwarts. She used to teach at Hogwarts, but stopped last year to have more time to focus on her writing.

''Gellert, why have you been expelled from Durmstrang?'' Bathilda asks gently after a pause in the conversation. Gellert knows she was bound to ask him one time or another. He is curious as to how much his mother has told her already. If Bathilda were to know, she would probably be appalled. ''Your mother did not really say as to why you have been expelled you see.'' Bathilda says. Okay, so she does not know anything. Gellert wonders if he could get away by lying to her, but then again, she will probably find out... he can bend the truth; or he will just omit some of the more gory things.

Bathilda is still looking at him expectantly. Gellert takes another slow sip of his tea to collect his thoughts. ''Well-'' He starts. ''- I am interested in magic, and practicing new spells, was something I did a lot. And - I - not all of them always went the way I wanted to... So they expelled me after one of my experiments backfired on me.'' _That's a lie._ He thinks to himself, while staring into his cup. _He was expelled because it actually_ did _work this time._

''I see, so you were expelled because of a failed experiment?'' Bathilda summarized. She knows that the boy is withholding a few facts here and there, simply because students don't get expelled because of an experiment that 'backfired' on them. She is not a fool, she knows that Durmstrang is well known for its tolerance of the Dark Arts. For Merlin's sake, the children have classes on it from there first year on. She decides to drop the topic as to why Gellert got expelled and, instead, wants to ask him about Durmstrang itself.

As a witch born on the British Isles, Bathilda received her letter at the age of eleven, and went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Communication between the other schools is scarce, a part from the Triwizards tournament, she has never seen any other students from other schools, except for maybe that girl she met while on holiday in France; she was from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. She looks back Gellert; maybe she ought to wait a bit with asking about Durmstrang. She does not want the boy breaking down in tears again. He certainty seems to be feeling a lot better, and she hasn't seen any tears since last afternoon.

After they both finished their tea, Bathilda claps her hands together in a cheery gesture, ''Well, dear, feeling ready to go to London?'' she asks with a smile. She has seen the clothing Gellert has brought along with him, or rather lack there off; a nice good shopping spree will remedy that nicely. She wants him to feel at home, and with Godric's hollow being populated by many muggles, she will need to get him some muggle clothing to fit in.

Gellert nods his head, with a small smile, ''Yes, Tante, but how will we get there?'' He doesn't see any fireplace to use the Floo network, and going by broomstick seems out of the question because of all the bloody muggles. Bathilda pulls him along to a part of the house he has not seen. aah, there it is: an old dusty fireplace, nicely tucked away in a corner of the room.

''Well, go on dear, grab some powder'' She says excitedly. ''Have you ever done this, Gellert?'' Without waiting for his response she launches into a explanation: ''So just take the powder - yes like that, good - and say 'Diagon Alley'.''

''Diagon what?'' ''Don't woryy-'' Bathilda continues, ''- just repeat after me 'Di-a-gohnn Alleyyy'.'' She says, over enunciating the words. Gellert has used the Floo network before, in fact many more times than just once. He focuses on the strange word, and says it aloud under his breath as practice. He then stands in the fireplace ''- Diagon Alley!'' and disappears.

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Please review :)


	4. Chapter 4

Gellert dusts himself off as he arrives out at the other end of the fireplace. He appears to be underground. He is suddenly pushed forwards, causing him to fall over. He hears Ms. Bagshot's suprised voice, ''Gellert, dear!'' He quickly rights himself and looks around the place. ''We are inside The Leaky Cauldron, well the basement at least.'' Bathilda says while blowing the soot off her arms. ''The Leaky Cauldron is a good place to start your tour.'' She motions him to follow her, and they both walk into a large room; tables and chairs scattered throughout the room in a nice arrangement, with a long bar on the side. There are a few patrons sitting on the high chairs at the bar, sipping their glasses.

Bathilda leads him outside, past a brick wall, and into the busy street. Ms. Bashot tells him that they will make a stop at several stores. The first stop sells toiletries, and she insists he will need his own. He looks around the cramped store, picking up several soapy products. Gellert hesitantly picks up one of the shampoo bottles. The brand names are completely foreign to him, so he just picks the one that smells the best. After finishing their purchases at that store, He is dragged to a clothing shop, by a name he forgets as soon as they're inside. His great-aunt takes him to one of the shop assistant, and he is led to another room were his measurements are taken by a house elf.

Twenty minutes later they leave the store again, Gellert carrying two bags full of all kind of garments. Ms. Bagshot made him get several undershirts, dress-shirts, some robes, trousers, socks, and despite his embarrassment, undergarments. She also bought him sleepwear with a matching robe, and some towels for bathing. Gellert feels like he literally bought an entire wardrobe, which upon second thought is exactly what he did. Well, his great-aunt did. He doesn't know he feels his new things. He is happy with his things, but also feels uncomfortable with the amount of money being spent on him like this. He decides to simply keep thanking her as they walk out of every shop and seem as grateful as possible. He feels suspicious of the nice behavior, but squishes the thought; Ms. Bagshot has shown him nothing but kindness, so far at least.

Several hours, and stores later, Gellert is hauling six bags filled with clothing, books, soaps, and random things, back to The Leaky Cauldron. They both take a seat at one of the table and Bathilda orders them two butterbeers. ''I think you'll like this; it has a sweet taste like that of caramel.'' Bathilda says as the drinks arrive. Gellert takes a small sip, letting the liquid roll over his tongue. It is indeed sweet as his great-aunt said, but the temperature surprises him.''It is hot?''. Bathilda nods her head,''You could get it cold, but when it's served like this, it's supposed to be warm, yes.'' Gellert hums a noncommittal agreement and takes another sip. ''Do you like it?'' Bathilda asks. Does he? The taste is definitely sweeter than that he is used to. He settles on 'It's alright.''

* * *

Bathilda and Gellert arrive at home in the late afternoon; Bathilda tells Gellert to go put his new things away upstairs, while she prepares them both a cup of tea.

Bathilda has learned during her afternoon with Gellert, that the boy is very frank. He is not malicious in his statement, but just so... blunt. Several times Bathilda has asked his opinion on certain things, and well, if he did not like something, you'd know. On the other hand, if he found something he liked, he would be equally blunt about it. She thinks it's a culture gap. Bathilda is aware that the British are well known for their obtuseness; and understands that not everyone shares the same mindset, yet wishes that Gellert could be, perhaps, a little bit more obtuse. At the first shop she almost reprimanded him for his choice of words. She was looking at some soaps and showed him one she thought was alright. He smelled it and wrinkled his nose, before telling her ''No thank you Tante, I think this one stinks.'' He then calmly turned to some other soap and began to inspect that one. She felt offended at first, and asked him, ''Pray, tell what is so horribly wrong with it?'' Gellert looked at her with a confused face and responded with, ''The soap is fine, but I don't like it personally.'' He must have picked up on her irritation as he added; ''I am sorry, are you angry with me?''.

After that there were other instances where Gellert was very open about his personal opinion, but she guesses it is a German thing. Even though he speaks with an accent, Bathilda is very happy to see that Gellert's English is very good. If he makes a mistake, she is quick to correct him, and he seems grateful for it. They had talked a lot during their shopping spree, and the difference with the boy that arrived yesterday, and the boy right now, is day and night. Gellert is very charming and witty, and quite clearly very bright for his age.

He reminds her of Albus Dumbledore, which reminds her; she still needs to pass by the Dumbledores. She has been meaning to stop by, see how they are doing now that their mother is gone, but with Gellert's arrival it has simply been a bit hectic. She still wants to introduce Gellert to Albus, she's sure that the two would get along great. She also thinks that it would help both the young men to feel less isolated here in the sleepy village.

Gellert greets her as he walks into the kitchen. Bathilda has already made two cups; hers with two sugar and a splash of milk, and his with just some milk. ''Thank you, again, for the shopping. It was very nice.'' He says as she hands him his cup. ''Oh, you're most welcome dear. I'd thought about getting your things in advance, but thought it would be a good excuse for you to see London. We still need to get you some Muggle clothing, but this will do for now, and besides for this week, I think that those dark trousers you got will blend in fine with a simple undershirt.''

''Muggle clothing?'' Gellert asks, pulling up his nose. ''Well, yes, dear - you''ll need a few things, to blend in.'' She answers. Gellert sighs, and takes another sip of his tea. ''Did you not need any while at home?'' Bathilda asks; she does not really know how the wizard community deals with that sort of thing abroad, but surely they don't walk about in flowing robes all day. Gellert shrugs and finishes his tea. ''I'm a wizard, why would I go and dress as a muggle?'' He says in a haughty voice.

''Well, because we live in a village where we are surrounded by muggles, dear.'' Bathilda says slowly. ''It think it would seem a bit odd if you were to go outside in your regular robes. People will probably think you are 'special', crazy, or both.'' She explains. ''We are special though, are we not?'' Gellert says in a matter-of-fact tone. ''Not that kind of special -'' She chuckles, ''- and, I am sure you will look just fine in Muggle clothing.'' ''But why should I have to dress to appease some stupid muggles?''

Bathilda puts down her tea and looks at him. ''Gellert, I understand that the mentality you are used to is perhaps different from how things are done here, but I will not have you belittle an entire group of people just because they are unable to perform magic.'' She says sternly. Gellert looks at her with his eyebrows raised, but stays quiet. ''Do you understand me?'' She repeats. Muggle-born withes and wizards are not allowed to enroll at Durmstrang, and blood-purity is probably an important issue over there, but she will not have an ignoramus living with her. Gellert nods his head his voice strained when he speaks, ''Yes Tante.''

Bathilda is not convinced though. ''Why don't you like Muggles, Gellert?'' She says, trying to sound neutral. That certainly seems to help him get talking as words of wizards supremacy, the importance of blood-purity and other non-sense is thrown at her with a vengeance. She listens to all of it, waiting till Gellert's finished with his little rant. She must applaud his deduction skills; he substantiates each of his statements with several reasons, that sound reasonable if you hear them, but Bathilda knows many muggle-born witches and wizards, some muggles as well, and knows that most of it is biased propaganda spewed out by pure-blood families. She notices how passionately he speaks about this subject; it makes her slightly uneasy.

''What about muggle-borns?'' she questions as she pours them both another cup of tea. Gellert is quick to reply: ''They are of magical blood, but I don't think they could ever be as good as regular witches and wizards. I mean if you water down this tea-'' He says while pointing at his cup, ''- it will lose most of its taste.''.

Bathilda looks down at her own cup. ''I see. My parents were both muggles, how do you feel about that?'' Bathilda says pointedly. That seems to quiet him down as he looks at her in surprise. Bathilda continues in a strong voice; ''I finished at the top of my class, I am, if I may say so, a well-renowned historian, and a member of staff at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. So, Gellert, how would that fit into your little theory?''

Bathilda is not a muggle-born; she was raised by her father who was a muggle. However, to prove her point she decides to omit that truth. Gellert is looking at his tea, all previous fervor and determination gone. ''I - I..'' He starts, looking for words; ''I did not mean any offence, Ms. Bagshot.'' He says quietly, avoiding her sharp gaze. ''Look at me, Gellert.'' She says sternly, and he flickers his eyes back up.

''I understand you may have heard these things a lot, concerning muggles and muggle-borns, but I tell you that they are not all true. The sad truth is that, whether it be a muggle or a wizard, people often react badly to things they cannot understand; magic for muggles is hard to comprehend, and that's the reason we, witches and wizards, keep that part hidden. It is fine to interact with them and talk with them, but they cannot know.'' The memory of a pale little girl being led through the garden late at night comes to mind as she says it. Bathilda knows that Ariana Dumbledore is a sickly child; her sickness caused by an attack. An attack by Muggles.

''What if you could change it?'' Gellert says suddenly, surprising her. ''Change it?'' ''Yes!'' Gellert, says passionately. ''What if we don't have to hide all the time, what if the Muggles could know about us, about magic?'' Bathilda sighs. ''Gellert, we have tried that, remember? It did not go well for us.'' Without missing a beat, Gellert replies hurriedly: ''But it does not have to be like it was at Salem, we could integrate! We are far more powerful than Muggles, we could easily prevent that from happening again.''

Bathilda has thought about what it would be like to have Muggles know about magic, but Gellert does not seem to like Muggles, so why propose to coexist? ''How do see that working then'' She asks. ''And, what if the Muggles want nothing to do with magic?'' She adds as an afterthought. Gellert seems to ponder over her questions, sipping his tea thoughtfully. After a minute he replies, ''I am not sure yet, but it is obvious that people with magic are stronger than those without magic so logically...'' He trails off, but implying his intention heavily. ''Muggles will have to make way for witches and wizards?'' Bathilda fills in, and before Gellert could reply continues with ''it would never work, Gellert; muggles outnumber us ten to one, and besides would you really be happy in a world where millions, no, _billions_ of people are being repressed just so you don't have to wear Muggle clothing outside?''

''No!'' He protests; ''It's not about the clothes, I don't give a damn about the clothes, but -'' ''So you will no longer object when I ask you to wear Muggle clothes?'' Bathilda cuts in. Gellert looks at her, his mouth still half open. for about ten seconds he stay like that, then grins _''_ Clever.''

With that the conversation seems to be over for now and they both finish their tea in silence.

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Please review :) and don't worry, Albus will be in the next chapter; just letting Gellert settle in.


	5. Chapter 5

Albus is sitting at the kitchen table; Aberforth and Ariana are still asleep, but he'll have to start preparing breakfast soon. How did it come to this? His supposed friend Elphias left without him, enjoying _their_ world trip. He is now discovering all these great new things that _he_ was going to see. But, no, Elphias is his friend, but... he just wishes he could be there with him. Instead, he is sitting at his family home waiting for his siblings to wake up.

He hasn't been home for more than a week, but already the drag of mediocrity has settled on him. He has been sitting at this bloody kitchen table since four in the morning, doing nothing except staring out the window, thinking of - of - this! He must be going crazy. It wouldn't have been so bad, if only Aberforth would not fight him every step along the way. For some reason he resents Albus' presence here, constantly reminding him how he would be much better suited to take care of Ariana, and how Albus should just leave like he's always wanted to. The worst? It's true... Albus is not as good with Ariana, not like Aberforth is with her; he seems to be able to calm her down in a few minutes, making Albus feel hopeless when he's not around while she's having another meltdown. He tried, he is trying, but it's true: he doesn't want to be here, and he doesn't know or _want_ to take care of his mental sister. And then he feels guilty; guilty for calling his sister mental, guilty for being so inadequate in her care, and guilty for wanting to pack his bag and take off and - and- leave this prison behind!

Albus notices a light on at Ms. Bagshot's house, but it's the top left window? For a moment Albus feels like a slight creep for knowing which window is Ms. Bagshot's bedroom, but when you sit in front of this kitchen window for a week, you start noticing things... But why is that light on? Ms. Bagshot doesn't seem to be awake yet; not that odd since it's five thirty, so then who is inside that room? Perhaps it's an intruder. Should he go there and warm Ms. Bagshot? Albus rubs his eyes; he's reading too much into this.

He hears sounds coming from upstairs: his brother's room. Ariana will be up soon as well he thinks. Albus sighs; time to be a responsible guardian again...

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,.

After breakfast Albus does some cleaning, then retreats back to the sanctuary of his room. It's quite large with a big window overseeing the front of the house; two large bookcases line the left wall, with more books scattered around the bed which is against the wall on the opposite side of the room. An old desk is positioned in front of he window; giving a nice view of the street and front garden. It's the only place in the house that actually feels like home to him.

Aberforth's booming voice distracts him from his reading; ''Albus! Ms. Bagshot is at the door for you!''

Reluctantly he puts his book down and walks downstairs to meet his neighbor. He likes Ms. Bagshot, but he does not feel like dealing with her right now. He knows she means well and is simply trying to help, but he doesn't want to be asked 'how he's doing' or 'if there is anything she can do' - not now.

At the door he is greeted with a cheery greeting. ''Hello Albus dear. How are you?''

Albus forces a smile, ''I am alright, and you Ms. Bagshot'' he replies evenly. She launches into a story about how her bell peppers are growing nicely, and how she has finished a new part of her book. Albus nods his head at the appropriate moments.

''Also dear, my great-nephew Gellert is staying with me for the summer; you two are about the same age, and he is very bright. I thought maybe you two could meet, have a cup of tea at my house this afternoon.''

Albus was looking forward to spending the day in his room, but he's been avoiding Bathilda since the funeral so he might as well get it out of the way. ''I would be happy to come by this afternoon.'' He lies.

After exchanging goodbyes, Albus goes back upstairs and stays there until he is required to make lunch.

At lunch Ariana refuses to eat even when he tries to get her to; Aberforth smiles smugly at this and then proceeds to feed her with a few simple words. He simply can't deal with his sister; her glassy eyes make him feel uncomfortable, and when she says one of her weird things, what is he supposed to say? He doesn't know how to respond to her strange questions and random comments. He leaves the table then, not waiting on another lecture from Aberforth; he can't bear to sit through another one. He is already sick of this day and he still needs to go to Ms. Bagshot for bloody tea. He still has two hours until he's expected there, so he goes back upstairs, throws himself on his bed. Just a quick nap he decides.

When it is time to make his way to Bathilda he tells himself that he will simply go there, have some tea, have an awkward conversation with this -what was it - Gellert, and be home an hour later. Yes, that would be okay, he can do that.

A quick trek to the other side of the street brings him to her doorstep, he knocks three times. The sun is glaring down on him, and Albus is happy when the door opens and he is ushered in.

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Bathilda prepares some tea, while Albus tells her about his upcoming article; as a way to keep the household going, he's been writing small articles for the paper. It is not much, but enough to get food on the table.

Bathilda puts a cup in front of him. ''I'll just go and get Gellert, be back in a tick.''

Albus tries to sip his tea, but only succeeds in burning his tongue. This Gellert is probably 'the intruder' Albus saw this morning. He hears Bathilda's dimmed voice from the front of the house, calling someone. He then hears footsteps coming down her rickety stairs. Two pair of footsteps make their way to the kitchen.

'Albus, this is my great-nephew Gellert.'', standing behind Bathilda is a blond youth, with pale skin. Albus looks him over and feels the familiar feeling of lust prickling, but squashes it. He might be plagued with these unwanted thoughts of attraction now and again, but Albus has been raised with good manners, and so stands up and shakes the young man's hand, ''Albus Dumbledore, pleasure to meet you.'' he says in a perfectly composed voice. The blond boy smiles at him, a nice smile.

''Gellert Grindelwald, and likewise.''

His voice is clear, the words spoken with a slight accent. He likes the way it sounds. Gellert's eyes are blue, his blond hair coming to his shoulder and it appears to curl slightly. _He looks like an angel._

Bathilda tells them to sit down, while she gets some biscuits. Albus tries not to stare at the other boy, but Gellert does not seem to share that same thought as he feels Gellert's eyes moving up and down his body.

''Tante has been talking about you a lot.'' He says with a lazy smile. ''She told me you are brilliant and will be the next ministry of Magic?''

Albus smiles at that, ''It is _minister_ of Magic, and I don't know.''

''She gave me one of your articles from 'Transfiguration Today'', it was very compelling. I must say that the three paragraphs where you expressed your concern over the difficulties of transfiguring a mouse into a toad, because of their inherent physical differences, is unfounded. I have tried it myself, and even though one is warm blooded and the other isn't, I was able to compensate for the big internal temperature change after a few tries.''

The way Gellert says it is aloof, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, yet Albus is speechless over the sudden display of intelligence, and the grasp of the subject. Gellert grins at him, a mischievous glint in his eye. However, Albus is not one to be beaten easily.

''And what of the delicate internal structure? During the transfiguration, one must also take into account the extra organs that toads have. For example Bidder's organ is not present in mice, but a key part in endocrine regulation in most toads. If one were to forget it they will have a toad that can no properly regulate it's hormones.''

''True'' Gellert concedes, ''-However, that is only the case in toads where also the testes or ovaries are removed; Bidder's organ has the potential to take over if either of them are damaged, but if then that is removed as well, then yes, you are right.''

Albus can't help but smile widely. Finally! This is the first person his age who not only understands his theory, but actively contributes to it!

They talk like that until their tea has long since gone cold. They have also completely forgotten that Bathilda was supposed to come back with biscuits, instead throwing new ideas at each other with lightning speed.

''Your aunt is right about you; you are brilliant.'' Albus says after a pause in conversation.

Gellert shrugs and throws him another lazy smile. ''After due consideration, I must say that she is right about you too; you are brilliant. I'm still not so sure about you being the next ministry - _minister_ \- of Magic, but you are certainly very clever.''

Albus feels something warm and fuzzy in his chest. _pride._ It feels like it has been years since he's been able to mentally exercise like this. Gellert is like a fresh breath of air, he is funny, charming and undeniably clever. At least with him here, his life at home won't be as unbearable. His siblings! Albus casually looks up at the clock. _Bollocks._ Albus sighs softly, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

''It has been a very pleasant afternoon, Mr. Grindelwald, but I'm afraid I'm needed back at home.''

''That is too bad my friend! We must continue our discussion some other time.''

Albus nods his head, ''Yes, would you like to accompany me tomorrow? I could give you a tour of Godric's hollow. I admit it is not much, but if you want...''

''Yes, I would like to!'' Gellert says excitedly.

''Then it's settled.''

After that Albus made his way back to his own's house, thanking Bathilda for the visit on his way out. His steps feel lighter, his head feels lighter, his _heart_ feels lighter. He is already looking forward to tomorrow, to spend more time with Gellert. A smile is planted firmly on his face when he entered his family home. Aberforth has already started dinner and Ariana is sitting on the couch, busy with her needle work. It is one of the few things her and Albus have in common; his knitting and her crocheting.

''You were gone a long time.'' Aberforth says in a low tone.

''I am here now.'' He says back neutrally. Aberforth scowls at him, but Albus is in a too good a mood to be bothered my Aberfort's negativity. Tomorrow he will see Gellert again.

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I want to thank everyone for their reviews:) Keep 'em coming please!


	6. Chapter 6

The following day, Gellert woke up with a smile; today Albus will be his guide, show him around the small village. Gellert has already done some minor exploring, but today...! After he and Tante Bathilda came back from London he walked around the street a bit, looked around Bathilda's back garden, but he is sure Albus will show him the more interesting parts of this sleepy town. Gellert himself is from a small town and knows that the small towns hide the biggest secrets.

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After dressing and refreshing himself he joins Bathilda for breakfast. They eat their scrambled eggs and bacon in companionable silence. To his great shock he has come to learn that his great-aunt is not a morning prattler. Afternoon and evening prattler, yes, but the mornings are reserved for quiet contemplation. Usually Bathilda will be looking at the morning paper, reading through both the wizard -and the muggle one. Why she bothers with the latter is a mystery to him, but he stays quiet about it. She does not seem to approve of his views on muggles...

He admits he was surprised about the fire in her words when they discussed wizard and muggle society. He was also _very_ surprised when she told him that she is a muggle born. For a muggle-born witch she is clever, he'll give her that; he's eating breakfast in muggle clothing after all... How she mentally bested him like that still stings a bit. Bested by a mudblood. _The irony_.

She did give him something useful though. After Albus left yesterday, he and Tante talked some more about wandlore. She told him that Ignotious Peverell is buried here in Godric's hollow. Ignotius Peverell! _The_ Ignotius Peverell. He will ask Albus about it as well today.

He wants to change the world. He has thought about it before, sure, and with the help of the elder wand... Maybe he could do it. He could help those being persecuted for their magic, create a future where wizards and witches don't have to hide simply because of some... - of some - ignorant muggles! His great-aunt does have a point though, when they were discussing it: muggles do outnumber wizards ten to one. To be able to allow people of magic to be free, something has to be done about those odds.

Ideally, this would be done without violence, but Gellert is not naive. He knows that there will have to be at least a little bit of violence; he is essentially plotting a revolution. Nobody has ever heard of a _peaceful_ revolution. He wants to overthrow the International Statue of Secrecy; to hell with it, he thinks. It is fine for children born into magical families, but for the all the mudbloods it is a lot harder. He has heard stories, and even seen first-hand how those children are treated. If they are unlucky enough to be born in his region of Europe they would be labeled as 'possessed' and an attempt would be made by the local church to exorcise the 'demons' that live in them. Those unfortunate souls' 'demons' are nothing more than early signs of magic. If they are born in America, they are likely to drowned with a stone chained to their ankles or burned at a stake. Muggles are cruel creatures.

Gellert doesn't hate mudbloods; he simply believes they are weaker. There is nothing wrong with being weaker, and because they are weaker, _especially_ because they are weaker, they should be protected. If wizards and withes can live free, out of hiding, none of these horrible things would happen to them anymore.

The difficult thing with mudbloods though, is that they are raised by muggles. All the hate and prejudice will be carried onto their children. How to solve that problem... Gellert doesn't know.

Bathilda gets up from the kitchen table and waves her wand to make the dishes wash themselves.

 _his wand_... He can do a moderate amount of wandless magic, and that has kept him sane for now, but he sorely misses his own precious wand. He got it when he was ten, at Gregorovitch Zauberstäbe. He knew when he first saw it. It was very long for his small hand, but as he grew, it became a perfect fit. 13.5 '', carved from a beautiful piece of Hawthorne bark, with Veela hair inside. He misses it sorely.

He shakes himself from his pitiful thoughts and thinks back to right now. _Right now_ he is going to meet Albus, and possibly learn more about the previous owner of The Invisibility Cloak. That thought brings a smile to his face.

* * *

Albus is sitting at the kitchen table, his usual spot. Aberforth promised to take care of Arianna while he shows Gellert around today. He expected more of a fuss from his brother, but Aberforth had simply shrugged and sighed out a fine. Right now he's in the yard with her, having turned their breakfast into a morning picnic. Arianna doesn't really go outside, so having her meals in the garden is something she really enjoys. Aberforth always joins her, looking out of place on the small checkered blanket, and talks to her. About what Albus has no idea; sometimes he hears them laughing, and wonders what stories his brother is telling her. he wishes taking care of his sister comes as naturally to him as it does for Aberforth, but on the other hand it does provide him with more extra time, with Aberforth always fussing over her, telling him to bugger off.

He sips his morning tea and eats his breakfast in solitude. He joins his brother and sister sometimes, but however much Aberforth seems out of place on that blanket, Albus himself sticks out like a dragon at a garden though, he is going to do something which is much more in his comfort zone.

Albus doesn't want to admit it, but he is _really_ looking forward to seeing Gellert again, talking to him again. As he went to bed last night he couldn't get the boy with the golden hair out of his mind, and, shamefully, he'd thought about Gellert in ways that normal men wouldn't. He knows he is not normal, that the bodies of woman don't give him the normal physical response like is expected, but it had never really bothered him. During his time at Hogwarts he was far too busy with his studies, and besides, if he did think of indecencies, those thoughts were simply of lust. He would not have a particular person in mind while taking care of his... needs, but rather imagined a faceless body; touching him and telling him he loves him. There was never really someone he wanted to think about in such a way, save that one time.

He'd had a crush once; a Huffelpuff Quidditch player, fifth year while he was in his third. His name was Peter Ogelby, and Albus had felt extremely attracted to him. Ogelby didn't really know he existed, Albus simply being another face in the crowd during games. Albus pictured Ogelby's hands on him for a month, until he ran into him on accident in the library. Albus had run full into Ogelby, dropping his books and falling over himself. He'd felt so embarrassed then, but Ogelby was kind about it and helped him up. Albus had then plucked up his courage, being a Gryffindor after all, and started a conversation with the other man, but in hindsight, that was a mistake. Ogelby was extremely nice, but as much as he was nice he was also stupid. During their conversation it became painfully obvious to Albus that they had very little in common, and their talk ended quickly.

After that, Albus could no longer imagine Ogelby during his intimate moments anymore; he'd felt frustrated about it, because he really liked being able to think about someone like that, having a clear face in front of him, but his mental daydream for a month turned out to be nothing more that that - a daydream. Yesterday night had come as a surprise; when he was thinking about Gellert and their talk, his thoughts wandered. He started to think about Gellert's hair, his voice, the way his trousers hugged his behind... He'd become stiff just by thinking about it. When he'd noticed his body's reaction Albus had been embarrassed, and quickly turned his thoughts to other things, willing his body to behave.

Albus is sure that if he'd touched himself thinking of Gellert last night, he would not be able to look him in the eye today. However, thinking of Gellert, felt so much better than a faceless shape...

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Gellert will be here any minute now; they had decided to meet at Albus' house, and go from there. Albus will show Gellert the small village center first, then the graveyard, and then some of the surrounding area which is mostly still nature or farmland. Godric's hollow is tiny, and the tour will probably take less than two hours, two if they walk slowly. But that will be two hours of normal conversation with someone who is not related to him.

Three quick raps on the door signals Gellert's arrival, and Albus tones down his happiness, schools his face into a more neutral expression. He doesn't want Gellert to think of him as a grinning maniac after all.

Albus opens the door and Gellert is standing on the front porch in clothes that resemble muggle wear; shorts and a simple undershirt. He recognizes the shirt being from Diagon Alley, but a muggle surely won't notice.

''Mr. Dumbledore, how are you doing this nice morning?''

Gellert is smiling widely at him, with his hands clasped behind his back.

''I am very well, and you Mr. Grindelwald?'' Albus replies in his practiced even voice, a small smile on his face. On the inside he is grinning like a fool.

Gellert looks amused. ''I am very well, thank you. May I come in?''

Gellert moves forward, but Albus closes the door slightly. His brother and sister are in the garden, but Aberforth will go ballistic if Albus invites someone into the house without telling him first.

''Another time perhaps, I thought we could start our tour right now?'' He replies evenly. ''If we follow this road it will lead to the muggle stores, and the cemetery, also all the way to the end it leads into the woods.''

''The cemetery you say? Could we maybe start there? I have been meaning to go there, to look at some of the famous graves.''

''I suppose, yes, that would be no problem.'' He'd rather not spent too much time there, but Gellert seems very excited about it, and it's just a graveyard after all...

Albus leads Gellert away from the house, pointing him into the right direction.

Albus is again amazed by the other man's intelligence, and also just by how easy talking to him feels; neither have to try to keep the conversation going. Ten seconds of walking and Gellert had already lured him into a conversation about spell research, and the pros and cons of wandless magic. They jump from topic to topic, and it just feels so _natural_. There are no awkward pauses; Gellert and him are equally matched on almost every topic they discuss.

Far too soon they reach the gates of the cemetery and their continuous chatter stops as Gellert looks around, walking towards the different graves. Albus trails behind him; the cemetery unfortunately much too familiar to him. His mother's grave is here too, the dirt still slightly upturned. Albus shakes the gloomy thoughts away, and forces a smile on his face.

Gellert stops at one of the older graves, and Albus moves to stand beside him to look at the old ruins on the cracked stone.

''Ignotious Peverell?''

Gellert bends down to look at the symbol engraved at the top. ''You know about him?''

''Not much, I'm afraid.''

Gellert traces the symbol with his finger, speaking in a soft voice;

''It is said that Ignotius Peverell was one of the owners of The Deathly Hallows. I have found evidence that he was the master of the Cloak of Invisibility''

''The fairy tale?'' Albus asks in surprise. He has heard the story of the three brothers; pretty much every magical child has, but he was always been under the impression that it was all fake, meant to entertain the children.

Gellert stands up straight again and turns towards him, a guarded expression on his face.

''What if I told you it is not a fairy tale? What if I told you that they are real?''

* * *

I want to thank everyone for reviewing! Please keep 'em coming :)


	7. Chapter 7

Gellert is looking at Albus intently, his expression cautious; to be honest he is slightly nervous about Albus' reaction. The people he has told before told him he was either stupid or deluded to believe the words of a children's tale. Or they thought he was both. Albus is looking at him with a puzzled face, perhaps accessing his mental stability...

''The Deathly hallows? As in the stone, the cloak and the wand?''

Gellert nods and looks away, back at the gravestone. ''Yes those. I have reason to suspect that Ignotius Peverell was in possession of The Cloak.'' He looks back at Albus, who is staring at the writing on the stone again, remaining silent. Gellert sighs, ''You think I'm crazy.''

Albus gives him a small smile, ''No,- but why do you believe they are real?''

Gellert shrugs, ''I do -''. He says nonchalantly and walks around the other man. ''- because I have evidence to support it.'' He sees Albus following his movements with his eyes, his interest clearly peaked.

''Do you want to know?''

.,

.,

Albus led him through the rest of the cemetery, pointing at various well-known names. They walked towards the village center, but Albus suggested they venture into the forest instead, saying it would be much better place to talk. Gellert was ready to launch right into it, but Albus reminded him that if muggles were to overhear them they'd be shipped off right to some padded white room. Gellert had snorted at that, but Albus insisted. So now they are sitting on the grass at a lake, surrounded by trees.

He must admit that it is a better scenery than the dreary muggle houses, and it reminds him of home. The ground is different; the soil isn't the right colour, but it comes close.

Gellert stretches out, his head on top of grass that he transfigured into a passable pillow with a wave of his hand. Albus had looked spooked at his use of magic and had quickly looked around nervously for any prying eyes, fearing perhaps that muggles would sprout from the trees and catch them. Very typical. He did do the same though and is now laying next to Gellert contently. On the way to the forest they'd simply talked about some of the history of Godric's hollow. apparently it's the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of his precious Hogwarts. Albus was _sorted_ into the gryffindor house, he's not entirely sure what that exactly means though...

''So they do what? They say 'you!, you shall be in Gryffindor, and you! You shall be in Huffelpuff' How does it work?''

''No, not exactly, but yes there is a sorting ceremony where each student is placed in the house that adequately represents them.''

Gellert thinks it sounds a bit culty, but who is he to judge? His school is a barren castle high up on a rocky cliff where there's nothing but the cold and the damp.

''So you are in house Gryffindor-''

''Gryffindor house.''

''What?''

''It's Gryffindor house. Nobody says 'house Gryffindor', but you can also just say 'I am in Gryffindor', that's also correct.''

''Right, so you are in _Gryffindor house-''_

''House of the brave.''

''Yes, most obviously-'' Gellert says, rolling his eyes and continues, ''but how is it decided? How do they know that you are of _that_ house?''.

Albus shrugs,''I can't really tell I'm afraid.'' Gellert rolls onto his side, ''What do you mean you can't tell me. Now you _have_ to tell me.'' He fixes Albus with a serious expression. ''Is it a cult thing? It is a cult thing isn't it?'' He deadpans. ''It would explain all the secrecy, and the fact that all the students are segregated into groups of like-minded individuals...''

''What?! No! it is most certainly not!'' Albus protests loudly, then quickly goes back to his calm voice, ''It is not a 'cult thing'. The information is simply protected by a charm, fidelius charm most likely. I am physically _unable_ to tell you Mr. Grindelwald, even if I wanted to.''

That's shame, he would have really wanted to know. At least Albus told him why. It is a simple trick really; if you want to know the truth just say it's something completely different, something it's absolutely not, and most people will give you a more accurate answer or maybe even the whole truth. It's human behavior. If you ask nicely it is easy for people to deflect, but if you deliberately tell people the wrong answer they are more likely to correct you with some truth.

''What about Durmstrang, why don't you tell me where it is?'' Albus asks smugly. Okay, fair point. His school is widely known for it's secretive behavior. Why he cannot fathom as it is really not that special.

''Unlike Hogwarts Mr. Dumbledore, pupils are not placed under the fidelius charm upon entering Durmstrang. As far as I know it's far up north in Norway; there is a big lake next to it, and built on this kind of mountain. There are a few good weeks during summer, but mostly it's cold and dark all year round. And no cult activity.'' He adds as an afterthought.

''And you don't get sorted?''

Gellert grins at him, ''No, like I said: not a cult.''

''Fidelius charm, and there's no cult. Besides I'm sure that Durmstrang is a lot more cult-like than Hogwarts.'' Albus counters back. ''I have heard you are taught some interesting courses.''

Gellert chuckles, ''If you're asking whether I had to learn the cruciatus curse at school the answer is no, but, yes, we do have some courses dedicated to the dark arts.'' The fact that Gellert taught himself how to perform the cruciatus curse, all unforgivables really, two years ago is beside the point right now. He doesn't want to scare Albus off after all.

Albus turns on his side to face him and looks at him with curiosity, ''Like what?''

Gellert decides it's probably best to avert Albus' attention back to other things. ''It is really not as bad as you picture it.'' He says reassuringly, subtly hinting that the conversation is over. Albus is smart, he'll take the hint. Besides there are more important things he wishes to discuss. Small talk is over.

Albus seems to sense the change in his mood.

''So, earlier, you have evidence, you said? Regarding the Deathly Hallows?''

* * *

Albus is back at his home, sitting in his usual spot at the kitchen table. His brother and sister have already had supper. He got home at eight in the evening, and when he got back in he wasn't surprised by his brother's angry scolding, and received it gracefully. After that he'd simply toasted some bread with butter and ate that, not allowing himself to make a full dinner, the guilt tying his stomach into knots. So he ate the miserable toast instead.

When he is with Gellert time seems to slow down, or that everything around them is simply moving faster. A two hour tour stretched into a whole day. How could that have happened! He'd promised Aberforth that he would be home in the late afternoon... He regrets being so late, but on the other hand he can't regret the time he'd spent with Gellert.

He still chuckles to himself when he thinks of Gellert's expression and the way he said Hogwarts is a cult. He'd hoped to learn a bit more about Durmstrang though, but Gellert's reluctance stopped him from asking further. However, the discussion that followed was also very interesting. Gellert is obviously very passionate about these ancient artifacts, especially the wand, but when Albus asked why on Earth he would need such power, Gellert had simply shrugged and moved on. Albus admits that having the Resurrection Stone would be very useful right now... It _would_ make his life a great deal easier. He would be free to travel the world and- but he shakes himself. Gellert said that no one has found any trace of the stone for centuries. And to be honest he doesn't know how much he should believe the things Gellert said.

On the other hand it does keep him busy. For weeks now he's been silently complaining about how dull this small town is, and now here's Gellert Grindelwald presenting him with a riddle that has been left unsolved for six hundred years. It is too tempting. Gellert is too temping. During their talk in the cemetery, when Gellert had circled him, asked him in that- _that_ voice whether he'd wanted to know a shiver had run down his spine. He just hopes the other man hadn't noticed.

With a heavy sigh he waves his wand to start washing the dishes and makes his way upstairs. Sitting down on his bed he changes into his night shirt. Gellert talked about the wand leaving a trail of mysterious murders behind... If so, then it would be wise to consult with someone who has been around for some years. Perhaps they could talk to a ghost? Perhaps even a previous owner? Without much thought he grabs a sheet of parchment and writes down his musings, quickly sending it before he loses his nerve. He sees his owl Copernicus fly to the top left window and land gracefully on the windowsill. The lights are still on so he knows Gellert is still awake. Albus soon sees someone opening the window and a hand reaching out to take the letter.

Albus quickly turns away from the window, in fear of making awkward eye contact, and waits nervously for Gellert to respond. After ten minutes he starts to feel slightly foolish for sending the message, but then he hears a tapping on his window. Copernicus has come back, carrying a reply.

Albus quickly lets his owl back into the room and takes the letter from his feet. He sits back down on his bed and unfolds the small piece of parchment. Gellert's handwriting is elegant.

 _Mr. Dumbledore,_

 _I must say I am surprised upon receiving your message, a pleasant surprise I assure you. Regarding your thoughts on talking to ghosts I think it is a good start, I have thought about it myself as well._

 _You asked me about my questionable course work; well I know of a few rituals that allows someone to summon the deceased, if you want I could tell you more about it. I have also thought about following up on a few rumours about the Elder wand. Of all the three it is most historically noted, and so I think the easiest to find._

 _I am curious for your answer, but understand if you wish to retire for the night._

 _Gellert Grindelwald_

Albus folds the paper back up. He wants him to write back to him! Albus quickly picks up a new piece of parchment and starts on his reply, speaking the words under his breath as he writes them down,

''Mister Grindelwald... I must admit you have aroused my curiosity-''. No not aroused that sounds.. not right. He starts again, ''Mister Grindelwald I must admit you have _peaked_ my interest, and wish to hear more about these rituals. I agree with you that the Elder wand will most likely be the easiest of the three to find. What rumours have you heard?'' He chews on the end of his quill. How does one go about finding ancient artifacts? If they could indeed talk to a ghost it would make it a lot easier, but still unlikely...

If they want to find a wand, it would be prudent to talk to someone who knows a lot about them, perhaps talk to a wandmaker? He writes that down as well.

''.. and I know of one wandmaker in London, a mister Gervaise Ollivander. We could write him, or even visit him, and ask if he knows anything about The wand. He owns a wand shop and almost all Hogwarts pupils get theirs from him.''

He signs his name at the bottom and watches his owl make his way over across the street again, stopping at the top left window. Five minutes later Albus is holding another reply from Gellert.

 _Mister Dumbledore,_

 _Thank you for your quick reply. It is a great idea to talk to this wandmaker in London. I think I know it; when I went to Diagon Alley with my aunt I probably passed by it then. When would you like to go? We could go tomorrow if you'd like._

 _The rumours I heard about the Elder wand is about the maker of my own wand; Herr Gregorovitch. I don't know whether they are founded, but it is said he is in possession of a very powerful wand. But again, whether it is_ The wand _I do not know._

 _I am awaiting your reply!_

 _Gellert Grindelwald_

Albus sighs longingly. He wants to go to London with Gellert, he _really_ wants to, but his family... Aberforth will lose his mind if Albus were to go gallivanting off tomorrow on a whim, especially after staying away all day today. And tomorrow is also the day he takes care of Arianna, while Aberforth goes to do.. whatever it is he does. Albus doesn't know, and really doesn't care either. So, tomorrow he basically has to stay at home the entire day. He wishes he could invite Gellert over, but with Arianna's fragile mental state that is a definite no-go, and again, if Aberforth finds a stranger in the house Albus will get yelled at for lacking responsibility and what not.

He is not about to tell Gellert all that so instead replies,

 _Dear mister Grindelwald,_

Should he write 'dear'? He thinks Gellert is nice, and he reasons writing 'dear' does sound nicer, so why not? It is proper English after all. He picks up his quill again and continues.

 _You are most welcome. I am unfortunately unable to go tomorrow, but would be happy to go in three days from now._ It is the day Aberforth agreed to take care of Arianna all day, allowing Albus some peace.

 _I know where Ollivander's wand shop is, and we can apparate to Diagon Alley from my house. We could ask Mr. Ollivander about Mr. Gregorovitch and the rumours surrounding him; start to distinguish fact from fiction if you will._

with a grin he adds,

 _I am still waiting on the details of these rituals._ And ends the letter by signing his name again.

* * *

Thank you for everyone who reads this! And to all who leave a review; reviews are always welcome :)


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you for everyone reading this and for leaving reviews!

* * *

Gellert opens his window again to let Albus' beige barn owl in. It carries another letter, and he can see Albus' elegant penmanship through the folded up paper. He quickly lets the owl in and takes the parchment off its legs. Folding it open, he sits down on his bed and reads the words quickly. Oh, but this is interesting. Now it's _dear_ Mr. Grindelwald. He continues reading; Albus wants to go to London in three days. Gellert can work with that. He can be his guide and has probably met this English wand maker in person and can point him out from the other staff.

Albus is more willing to help him than he'd thought. After he'd explained his research and theories, Albus had been apprehensive, but there was something in his eyes, a look. Gellert presented him with a riddle, and the way he'd presented it made Albus swallow it hook line and sinker. The other man isn't aware though that he himself has presented Gellert with a riddle of his own. Gellert is convinced that Albus is hiding something; this morning when Gellert had moved towards the door, Albus had looked startled. It was only for a second before that perfect British calm took hold again, but Gellert saw. That look of fright makes it clear to him that Albus does not want him to know what's going on in that house.

Also, he hasn't met the other man's parents, or any family for that matter. Does Albus live there alone? No, that is highly unlikely. As far as he can tell the other man is brilliant, so there has to be reason he's in this dreary village. His great-aunt has told him that Albus had to come back home because of _family obligations_ , but she hadn't told him why. For all the talking she does, she is deceptively good at telling you nothing... She's related to him after all, he thinks, smiling to himself.

Besides wanting his help and secrets, Gellert actually _likes_ Albus. He's brilliant in ways he's never seen before in other people and also seems completely unfazed by Gellert's own displays of intelligence. Their first discussion when Gellert had bluntly criticized the other man's work he'd quickly given several counter arguments leaving Gellert's argument obsolete. It was amazing.

Again, reading the letter, he grins at the remark at the bottom. So Albus wants to know more about necromancy? Be careful what you wish for my friend, he thinks.

Gellert grabs an empty piece of parchment and starts writing his reply.

 _Dear mister Dumbledore,_

 _Three days from now will be fine. I cannot apparate right now as my wand, unfortunately, is still at home. But I am sure my great-aunt will let us use her chimney and floo powder. Would ten be a convenient time for you?_

 _The rituals you are so curious about my friend, are perhaps not something you would approve of. Are you certain you want to know? I will tell you, but I ask you answer me in return. Why is someone with a mind like yours voluntarily staying in a place like Godric's Hollow?_

It is a bold move, but he feels it's worth the risk. Albus might just tell him, and if not? Albus is British; even if he's offended him, Gellert reckons he would be much too polite to call Gellert out on his intrusiveness directly.

 _I await your reply!_

 _Gellert Grindelwald_

He attaches his letter to Albus' owl and sees it fly off to the other man's window.

The first ten minutes he waits in mild boredom and slight excitement but after another twenty minutes without a reply Gellert starts to worry. Perhaps he shouldn't have confronted Albus so directly... He groans and grabs another piece of parchment and hastily scribbles another note,

 _Dear mister Dumbledore,_

 _I hope I have not offended you with my prying. If I did, I wish to apologize._

 _The rituals I am talking about are necromancy-._ Gellert stops. Better perhaps to just drop the matter and just write the apology... He has most likely offended him personally, he doesn't want to offend Albus' moral Hogwarts principles as well. He grabs a new piece of parchment and copies his apology and finishes it with _I hope to hear from you_ and his name.

Satisfied with his placating message, he walks back to the window and... no owl. Right. He looks back at Albus' window and sees that light is still coming from his room. He must still be awake. He opens the latch and binds his message to a pencil he has lying around. With some effort he glides the pencil and paper wandlessly across the street and makes it tap against the window three times. Then he turns away from his window and waits. Gellert keeps the small object afloat positioned right in front of the glass, but he doesn't hear Albus opening the window.

He turns back towards the window and peers back at Albus' house. Frustrated he taps the pencil against the glass a bit harder before hiding from view again. This time Gellert does hear Albus open the window and take it. Gellert had briefly entertained the thought that Albus had simply fallen asleep with the lights still on, but like he feared that's obviously not the case...

So, Gellert waits again.

A few minutes later he hears Albus' barn owl and he rushes to let the bird in. He nervously takes Albus' reply and quickly folds it open. The message is brief and to the point:

 _Mister Grindelwald,_

 _Meet me at the cemetery in ten minutes._

 _Albus Dumbledore_

That's it? Gellert turns the paper around but that's the only thing on it. A greeting, one sentence and his name. No more _Dear_ mister Grindelwald he notices. Gellert sighs, that's not a good sign, but _'_ _meet me at the cemetery...'_? Why does Albus want to meet him at the cemetery at almost twelve o' clock at night? Definitely intrigued, Gellert grabs his boots. He doesn't have a lot of time to get there so leaves his nightshirt for what it is, and tucks the legs of his pyjama bottoms into his boots; to shield him from the somewhat chilly night air he puts on his woolen cloak as well.

Gellert silently leaves his room and makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. From there he carefully opens the backdoor and sneaks into the back garden. From there it's easy to jump the small fence and make his way to the graveyard. His great-aunt is most likely fast asleep at this time, and won't notice his absence.

.,

.,

A short walk later, Gellert arrives at the entrance to the cemetery. After peering into the dark he sees Albus' silhouette leaning against the small gate that surrounds the whole place. It is slightly foggy, which gives it a haunted appearance. Albus told him that's why the muggles are reluctant to go here, but Gellert is a wizard though, a little fog doesn't scare him.

He makes his way over to Albus quickly, who is dressed in the clothes he wore during the tour. Gellert feels a bit self-conscience in just his pyjamas and a cloak, but doesn't let it show. Albus' expression is stern but his eyes are slightly red, making his skin seem even more pale than it is. He'd obviously been crying and Gellert suddenly feels a twinge of guilt. He didn't think it would actually hurt the other man _that_ much.

''Albus?'' Gellert asks softly. They're now standing face to face, and Gellert sees that his hair is disheveled and one of the buttons of his dress shirt is buttoned wrong. There is also a weird smell coming from him, like he's been sitting next to a campfire.

Albus is avoiding his gaze and doesn't respond to Gellert's question. Instead, while still remaining silent, he starts walking into the graveyard, leaving Gellert no choice but to wordlessly follow. Albus leads him past the Peverell grave, to a grave that seems to be from a recent death.

He reads the name on the stone... and then it makes sense. Next to it is another older grave, also bearing the Dumbledore name. These must be his parents. Albus moves to stand in front of, what Gellert thinks is his mother's grave, and touches the marble stone with his fingertips; his head bowed and a strained expression on his face. When he finally speaks his voice is slightly hoarse,

''I have a younger brother. He is fifteen and needs to finish his education. Without my presence here he would not get the chance so I came home to take care of my family.''

The last part he said with bitterness.

''Does that answer your question Mr. Grindelwald?'' he says sharply.

No, actually it doesn't Gellert thinks crudely. It only makes it more confusing! but one look at the other's face and he squishes the thought. He understands that sometimes it's best to back off. For most people he doesn't care enough to actually do so, but again, he wants to keep Albus around.

Gellert watches as Albus looks down at the grave again, his eyes seeming more watery. Gellert is not good at this sort of thing, _consoling_ people, but he feels like he should do something to help.

Without thinking too much about it he pulls Albus close; tugging him into the crook of his neck and wrapping his arms around his thin frame.

Albus gasps, ''What- Gellert what are you doing?'' He says in a shocked whisper, slightly pulling out of the embrace.

''Comforting you?''

Gellert tries again and this time Albus allows himself to be held, after a few seconds he feels him tentatively reciprocate, loosely wrapping his own arms around Gellert's waist. Gellert can now clearly smell the smoke and ash in Albus' hair. _What happened in that house?_

When Albus speaks again, his voice, even though muffled by Gellert's collar, sounds like his old composed self again.

''I assure you I am usually not like this.''

''Did I cause your current... imbalance?''

Albus sighs, ''No you did not.''

''Then what?''

Albus pulls away from their embrace and looks at Gellert with an unreadable expression. When he speaks his words are still as calm as ever, but filled with fire.

''I will be _stuck_ in _this_ place for at least the next three years, probably longer. The only people I can talk to are Ms. Bagshot and my family, and no offence to your aunt, but none of them I can call my friends.'' Albus starts to pace, his words getting angrier, ''My best friend is out traveling the world on what was supposed to be _our_ adventure, while all _I_ am here playing house. My brother is a constant nuisance, and my-'' He waves his hand in frustration, taking in a steadying breath, ''Tonight was just not the most pleasant. I lost my temper with him and I wanted to get out of that house.''

Gellert listens to Albus rant, analyzing what he is actually saying. So his brother is a total pain in the ass, and his best friend took off without him. Even Gellert admits that's a bit cruel. Albus is also clearly feeling isolated. And, Albus is hiding something. Something more than general frustration and loneliness. Calling him out on it right now doesn't seem to be the wisest choice though...

''Three years is not that long.'' He says nonchalantly instead. Albus looks sceptically at him, his eyebrows slightly raised. ''And after that you are free to go wherever you want, right?''

''Three years is a long time Gellert.'' Albus says pointedly.

moving to stand closer to Albus again, ''You are thinking too negatively! And while I agree that my great-aunt, and probably your brother, as you implied, aren't the greatest of minds to talk to, I am sure I can at least help you with _that_ part.''

Albus tenses briefly when Gellert gently touches his arm, but relaxes again.

''How long are you staying here Gellert?'' Albus asks resigned, staring at Gellert's hand.

''I don't know.'' he says softly, ''but I am here now though.'' smiling at the other with a half grin.

Albus goes red at his words, which is not exactly the reaction he was hoping for, but he decides it's progress. Gellert smiles reassuringly and squeezes Albus' arm before letting his hand drop back to his side.

''Do you want to go back to my aunt's house? I can make us both some tea? You British seem to love the stuff.'' He says with a grin. If they remain quiet he can sneak Albus in without too much difficulty...

Albus shakes his head though,

''I can't Gellert, I am sorry, but I have already been a bit reckless by coming out here at this hour. I should get back...''

Albus is already slowly moving away from the two graves, back towards the entrance.

''Okay, of course'' Gellert says, not having a lot of choice since Albus is already walking away. He would rather keep talking, but follows the other man as they make their way back.

.,

.,

Gellert is glad he's brought his cloak. It is keeping him nice and warm as a particular cold night breeze passes them. He sees Albus shiver slightly though; not that strange as he is dressed in just some shorts and a dress shirt Gellert thinks, but they continue walking.

But when he sees Albus wrap his arms around himself, goosebumps clearly visible on his pale skin, he sighs mentally. It would be mean to ignore it at this point... Reluctantly he takes off his woolen protection, and holds it out to the other man.

''Take it.'' Gellert says while pushing it against Albus' chest. ''You are cold.''

Albus just stares at it dumbly for a second until Gellert gives him a stern look, daring him to refuse now he's already taken it off, and quickly pulls the cloak around himself. Albus stops shivering and they stay silent for the remaining distance. Gellert is used to much colder temperatures, and while it is a little bit uncomfortable, it is really nothing compared to winters up at Durmstrang. Gellert wants to try and coax Albus into conversation, but the other man seems to be in deep thought. So, they keep walking until Gellert stops at his neighbor's fence. ''I'll have to sneak back in.'' he explains as he waves at the bushes.

Albus moves to take off the cloak, but Gellert simply waves his hand again and tells him to keep it for the rest of the way since he isn't cold himself. They then both stand there a bit awkwardly, neither knowing what to say. It is Albus who eventually speaks, his voice sounding tired, but like his usual self,

''I-I... Goodnight Gellert.''

Gellert smiles softly before responding in kind,

''Goodnight Albus.''

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